


Up and Down

by Hotokichan



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Bickering, College verse, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, a collection of drabbles that will progressively grow larger, marco got aged up to nineteen and tom to whatever the demon equivalent of that is, more to be added - Freeform, tom's anger issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotokichan/pseuds/Hotokichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles that don't go in any real order as Tom and Marco live out their relationship in a cheap University school apartment with an outrageous, smoke detector related electricity bill. The ups, the downs, and hopefully an accurate enough show on how I'd view their dynamic if a relationship between them had been given time and dedication to procure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up and Down

Marco came back from a Philosophy lecture that dragged on a little later ten minutes ago.

Tom had most likely been home for much longer. If the fact that the smell of smoke was stuck on everything. It hit Marco like a bulldozer, the second he struggled to open the door with his keys and prepared himself to relax for a few minutes - start up on some work - study - and have little bits of the boyfriend package in every space in between. But, no, a face full of sharp smelling smoke and ash and a split second before Marco had been immediately on guard. Slowly dropping his bookbag onto the floor as he began to creep towards the kitchen, the source of it all. Convincing himself he was ready for anything it had to dish out. Five minutes ago, that had been. Five minutes.

You know...

Marco remembered when times were simpler. Where his largest concerns were about a magical wand, a band of baddies and a princess from another dimension who looked for fun in only the worst of places. Now that Marco stared blank at the footprints singed into the hideous tile of the kitchen, he was starting to appreciate everything a little bit more... even Ludo’s pathetic battle cries. (They were still lame, Ludo was still lame, but he was a simple type of lame.)

 

Sharply, the infamous - smoking pacer turned on his heel and began walking down the same line he’d been walking (read: stomping.) down for the past five minutes. You want to know the name of this guy? See, this guy’s name was Tom. And Tom was two seconds from setting off the smoke detector. (Again, this happened a little often.) Marco waved an arm in the air, trying to clear up the smoke a little while rolling his eyes and following Tom’s tense march from point A to point B. Hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, he let out an exasperated breath.“Tooom...?” Marco tried. But Tom didn’t heed his presence - something else fixated his attention. 

Whatever it was, Marco almost felt sorry for it. If Marco had to guess, he’d say it was -

“They’re just so -ghhh!”  Well, Ghhh! was close enough to what he was thinking. Close enough that when Tom went to speak again, Marco took it as a chance to break him from his temperamental spell. Trying for a softer look, Marco put a hand on Tom’s shoulder after a short moment of internal contemplation, and...

 

Marco jumped, Tom stopped pacing, and his hand would receive an early funeral. Now, you wouldn’t want to call it funny or anything, but Marco’s dance was pretty funny. Leaping back, literally burned. A hilarious expression of wide-eyed surprise that topped the icing of the cake. Marco blew cold air on it, gasped, and waved that hand in the air. Strange, seeing as he cared immensely.

“Sss- That’s- that’s hot!! Ooo, hot hot hot hot HOT-”

Ten seconds later, he thinks Tom blew up.

Take it figuratively or literally, either way it summed up the situation very well. Tom turned to Marco, whipping his head like a cat who had noticed its prey shift out of the corner of its eye. Brow drawn together fiercely, teeth and fists clenched with all of Tom’s exponential might. Eyes splitting between the dangerous in between of literally blazing and harboring a heinous fury. Marco didn’t notice the slight pain as much anymore - when Tom blew up about stuff, he took it to the max.  “Did you know they tried to send a hound after me? A fru- fri- fucking hound after me. Me, like I’m just- just some kind of reckless moron who needs some soot smelling mut tailing my every move. Oh, ha ha, hah hah hah.” A brutal, cold laugh that hurt to even hear... “And that is not even the best part. Oh no, it gets better! So I catch the next ride I can to the underworld to see what THIS was about-” In the impossibly tight fist, Tom unfurls his fingers and the burnt remains of what must have been a dog collar - if Marco squints close enough, he can read the scolded words written on the tag. It had been named Cerberus.

“They don’t even have the fr- fucking decency to talk to me directly about it they send this - this little -grrrrr-gghhh!!” Dark, thick smoke was starting to rise and slip between Tom’s pressed teeth as he dug his feet hard into the ground. Eyes staying ablaze for several seconds longer than any time before it. It looked almost agonizing to bring himself back down enough to even speak. Even Marco was too stunned for words. Still left to watch, left to wait.

And continue Tom did, after collecting himself. Having the glow fully fade from his eyes before he jumped right back into place. Pacing a new, vertical line across the narrow kitchen. Throwing what used to be the dog collar to the ground with hardly a sound. The thing had burned to a crisp in his grasp, and broke apart into ashes on the floor. Tom stepped over it, or rather stepped right on it.

“They’ve got the nerve to send me this servant to tell me that it was- ‘for my own goooood!’ like I was actually supposed to take that! Not today, not ever, not fucking happening! I’m- I’m furious! Furious furious furious furious -gaaaah!” Talking about those feelings that Tom had once tried to hide behind a princely ploy made Marco suddenly remember how different things were for them. Massively different, all things considered. How instead of admitting he was feeling something other than what he had planned to feel, he tried to follow a plan. A plan he’d thought about countlessly, making sure it was just perfect. Perfect and according. Tom’s eyes were ablaze again, but Tom forced them closed tight. Trembling on the spot, the tips of his horns lighting comically cute flames and Marco swore Tom might have blown something in that head of his. When it looked like Tom was too infuriated to add onto the rant, Marco tested the waters. Reaching, foolishly, for Tom a second time.

Narrowed eyes snap open before Marco’s hand can even get close to brushing Tom’s shoulder, and in the fraction of a second it used to get closer, Tom spoke louder than ever. So loud that it echoed and bounced back at them from the walls. So close that several things shook, and the ground still felt as if it were vibrating over the powerful force of Tom’s voice. Distorted, but only slightly.

“Do NOT touch me-”

 Everything was almost silent, very suddenly.

“...”

“...”

Marco stared at Tom, eyes wide and jaw slack open. Arm still held up in the air, frozen in the gesture.

Tom stared at Marco, eyes even wider. Marco realizes, without moving a muscle, that Tom was panting. Furrowed brows relaxing into something a bit more...sympathetic. Within the next five seconds, Tom went through an incomplete metamorphosis. Breaths first growing erratic as he bunched up another fist, expression tensing yet again as if it were the most natural thing. But he didn’t say anything, even though he looked like he wanted to.

Next was slowly seeming to convince himself to calm down. Eyes going up to the ceiling, counting backwards from twenty under his breath, and it’s like he was imagining something was whispering him words of kind wisdom. ‘You can be positive that your anger is negative...’

And finally, it was back to a much healthier look of absolute annoyance. The flame was still alive in Tom’s eyes, even as they skitted from Marco to right back at him. Even now, Tom still spoke through clenched teeth. Hissing especially when he pronounced his S’s. "I didn't mean to- not like, look that...  _that's not what I...uh,_ "  “You...You’ll- I’m, extremely hot right now, okay? Burning, stupidly, _smoldering_ hot! You _know_ that! I don’t want to- I just don’t want to hurt you again, okay?! I will burn you and you will make pathetic little dumb sounds and I will feel bad and _can’t you_ be supportive at some reasonable distance? Like, over there or something! I- I don't _know._ Is that too much to ask? Just, pat me with a _pole or something_ but don’t be stupid and-” The words came quicker and quicker. Stepping closer to Marco, contradicting his words and all with a near flustered look on his face as he plastered Marco with the rant.

All in all, it was incredibly touching and stupid at the same time. As were most of these things, in fact. Marco looked at the ground for a slow second, drawing it back up to Tom just as the demon realized he was actually stepping towards Marco instead of away from him and-  “...You okay?”

 

“...” Tom was back to staring again. Cheeks a rushed fluster of dark purple as an offended look came across Tom’s face and just stuck. Marco could, would, and did wait for a response. Stepping slow and horizontally to the side, to the closest draw, and without breaking eye contact...

 

Marco pulled out a pair of oven mitts. Covered in brown little puppy dogs, pink and a little burnt where it covered the palm. It was as if Marco was doing it all deliberately, watching Tom with a neutral expression that translated too: still waiting. Marco slid on the gloves, Tom opened his mouth and closed it --- like a burning, purple gold fish. (With three eyes.)

 

With both hands up held up in a defensive manner, Marco stepped back in front of Tom. And Tom, the idiot, actually stepped back. Like he hadn’t meant to do it at all... Expression unchanging, for the both of them, Marco stepped back forwards. The hands at either side of his head slowly beginning to lower... and eventually sink down onto Tom’s shoulders. Squeezing, barely feeling the licks of the heat that radiated off of the demon in deteriorating waves through the material.

 

It started at Tom’s face and drained down to the rest of him. Relaxation and... was it a sense of peace? The tense bunchedness of his shoulders slackened as his posture became less closed off. Mouth still open and wordless while his eyes train back into Marco’s. All three of them, not quite so engulfed with rage anymore. Fist uncurl, arms go limp, and he can finally hear sweet nothingness instead of Tom’s flames coming close to bursting.

Slowly, speaking came slowly. “...Yeah, yeah I think...” Unsure, Tom’s eyes look across the kitchen. From one wall to another, unconsciously reaching up and placing a hand on top of Marco’s mit clad ones. His voice leveled out with every word, before it completely balanced with a final. “I’m... okay now.” The colorless line his mouth made bloomed a humble, gentle smile. If you looked close enough, you could see Tom’s immediate reaction. A full body shiver that seemed to drag his mind back into his body. “Good...taking off the mitts, give me a second-”

 

“When did you even get those-” “Uh, It’s called customer credibility Tom. Let’s respect that for a second-” “The concept of customer credibility makes absolutely no sense and I sincerely hope wherever you got these monstrosities go bankrupt.” “Hey, I got these on a discount!” “That’s a stupid business practice too are you kidding me-”

 

Tom held anger in that voice, but it was banter typical anger. The kind that drew out both sarcasm and casual comebacks from Marco without even trying. Tom was so unbelievably passionate and emotional, it was hilarious to bring up one point that you knew would get Tom practically breathing fire.

 

Slipping a hand out of an oven mitt, he put the bare skin at the back of his hand against the side of Tom’s neck. Just as the demon was going off and on about Underworldly ethics and economics, rolling his eyes while pointing out some other stupid flaw in how Earth went about coercing business. Throwing his hands up, mouth open in a groan, and Marco was so content with how this turned out. Happier when he felt that Tom was no longer burning to the touch. Speaking of Tom, said demon was currently taking his rant to the living room. And Marco followed behind him. Both oven mitts all but forgotten as he threw the pair over his shoulder, looked over it, and saw them land perfectly on the counter.

 

Marco pumped a fist and whispered a tiny, accomplished, “Yeees.”

 

When Marco turned back to the situation at hand, Tom was staring at him. Brows furrowed yet again as he pointed a finger at Marco. Squinting at the offensive little man, who literally was only trumped by Tom in height by a mere inch. “You,” Tom started, “You’re not even listening to me, are you? You bring up Earth economics and than YOU stop listening to ME, who does that?”

 

“I want to point out that you brought economics into this. See, that’s not actually my major-” Tom cuts in, with a slow and ‘menacing’ (read: not at all.) whisper, dropping onto the couch with a creak of the springs. “I will burn everything you love.” Marco plopped in a much less graceful manner next to Tom. Reaching for the remote, not so inconspicuously leaning on Tom who immediately leaned back. (Tom was still looking pretty bratty, but it was Marco who grew to accept that part of him. If he was going to have Tom? He was going to have to have all of him. Those were the breaks.)

 

The television flicked on with a click, and Marco was pleased to relax at the thought that he’d done a portion of what he wanted to do when he got home today. Chill and get all of the tension out... he flips to another channel. Just as a hand slowly slips across his back, and ends with an arm laying across his shoulders.

 

Marco glanced up, and saw Tom looking away with another bratty expression. But this one was a bit different; his eyes shifted purposefully. Cheeks a little dark as he gave into the affection and convinced himself to let go off their not-argument argument. “Yeah, What’re you looking at?” Tom says too quickly, rushing out the words between his lips as he leans back, back still straight as a board... And, yes, Marco grinned.

 

“Nothing, just you.” “Well, stop it.” Marco didn’t plan for what happened next. Brow perked, smile sly, and Tom couldn’t help but stare for a moment at that little mole under Marco’s eye. “That is not mah job.” You know that one episode of Drake and Josh? Where they explore Hellen’s childhood acting and her world famous ‘That is not my job’ quote? Marco and she said it perfectly, at the same time. For a split second, Tom almost looked impressed. “... You know what that’s, that’s it. Get off of the couch, give me the remote, I am not watching this if you are going to say-” “That is not mah job,” “EVERYTIME they say it. Give me the remote.” “Thaaat’s not happening.” “Marco, give me the remote.”

 

“That’s not-” “GAAAH!”

Marco laughed just before Tom shook him furiously before burying his face into Marco’s shoulder. Which was followed by more muffled screaming, more laughter from Marco, and laughter from the studio audience.

 

Before Tom kicked him off of the couch, that was.

A story for another day


End file.
